


Coming Home

by Cusp_of_Sensitivity



Series: A Party at Madame Angel's [3]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Coffee in the morning, Discussion of class system, Episode: s01e05 The Homecoming, F/M, How Porthos met Aramis, How to be a Royal Mistress, Porn with Feelings, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 03:10:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7960126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cusp_of_Sensitivity/pseuds/Cusp_of_Sensitivity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paris, 1630. After returning to the garrison from his recent stay in the Court of Miracles, Porthos feels like celebrating. So he goes to Madame Angel's in search of fun, where he makes a new friend. Together they share wine, thoughts, and bodies as they spend a night in a luxurious hotel suite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

The setting sun illuminated the city of Paris, bathing everything in a golden glow. At the Musketeer garrison, Porthos walked through the main gate onto the city street. Inhaling the warm air, he walked along the streets, admiring the beauty and serenity of Paris at dusk. As he passed stalls being shuttered for the night and people making the day’s last purchases, Porthos relished his newfound freedom. After returning from the Court of Miracles, where he had been taken after being convicted for a crime he didn’t commit, he went to his room, washed and changed into fresh clothes, and then went out into the evening air. Porthos moved along the Rue des Capucines, feeling his customary swagger return as he anticipated the night ahead of him. Turning off that road, he sauntered toward the old vine covered hotel, which shimmered in the light of sunset. As he came toward the gate, one of the footmen, recognizing a regular patron, hurried to open the gate, greeting him with deference. Nodding as he passed, Porthos made his way up to the first floor of Madame Angel’s establishment, to the salon where all the courtesans were gathered for the evening. He heard a familiar voice call to him and, with a smile that would make any woman melt in a puddle at his feet, he went over to the table where Clemence de Pomeroy stood, dressed in a blue silk dress cut to emphasize her lush curves.

“I thought you would be over with the other girls,” Porthos said, gesturing to where scantily clad courtesans lounged around the room, waiting for more clients to arrive and select them for the evening.

“Gaspard is visiting his ailing mother in Evry,” Clemence explained, “so I’ve taken over his duties while he’s away. But I’m sure you’d much rather celebrate not taking the fall for young de Mauvoisin’s death or getting blown up in the Court of Miracles than talk about me.”

“How did you…?” Porthos asked.

“Treville,” she said, inclining her head toward Madame Angel’s office, “stopped by to spend time with Madame Angel. He told us what happened. Now,” Clemence opened the book on the table, “what do you want for tonight?”

“Some fun,” Porthos said with a wicked grin, “preferably with great tits.” He let his eyes drop to the décolletage swelling out from the low neckline of Clemence’s gown.  
Clemence’s throaty laugh rang through the salon as she turned the pages in the book to the desired courtesan. “Frederique,” she called out, and there was movement as the chosen girl came forward to stand in front of Porthos.

“Porthos du Vallon,” Clemence introduced them, “meet Frederique de Vaillancourt, whose family have been the Seneschals of Normandy for over a hundred years.” She wrote Porthos’ name down as Frederique’s client for the night as he drank in the sight in front of him.

Frederique was dressed in a short chemise the color of red wine, with matching stockings encasing shapely legs spread in an insolent stance, a delicate hand resting on her cocked hip. Three-inch-high red chopines gave added height to a frame that Porthos guessed would only come up to his shoulders. Silky straight hair the color of dark ermine flowed down to her waist and chocolate brown almond shaped eyes shined with amusement as his eyes lowered to the front of her chemise, where her extremely generous breasts stretched the fabric taut and threatened to break free at any moment. Porthos felt his cock press against the leather of his breeches.

“Does Frederique look like fun to you?” Clemence drawled, seeing perfectly well the effect the young courtesan was having on the formidable Musketeer.

“Definitely,” Porthos growled, moving forward to swing Frederique into his arms as though she was light as a feather, which to him she was. He carried her through the salon and up the marble staircase going up to the suites. Laughing, Frederique guided him to the suite with three interlocked moons on the door. 

Inside the suite, a chandelier and candles illuminated the sumptuous décor, showing everything awash in red silk – the walls on which elaborate tapestries hung were lined with it, the chairs and chaise were covered with, the canopy suspended from the ornately carved ceiling was draped with it. The bed was covered with an embroidered counterpane. A fire roared in the fireplace underneath a beautiful still life painting of flowers. Porthos carried Frederique over to the bed and gently set her on her feet. Frederique grabbed the hem of her chemise and pulled it up over her head, tossing it aside so she stood before him in stockings and heels. Porthos swore softly at the sight of her naked body. Her breasts were even better than he’d imagined, big enough to fill his hands and then some, rosy nipples hardening when he reached out to cup them gently. Her waist tapered in then flared out to form two perfectly rounded hips. Her bare nether lips were plump and flushed with her arousal and Porthos’ nostrils flared when he caught her scent. He pulled her into his arms, his mouth coming down on hers in a hard, bruising kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth, storming her defenses as he cupped her buttocks to lift her against him where she could feel his massive erection. Her tongue met his in a spirited defense and her hips surged against his, tempting his hardness with the promise of her softness. When he finally lifted his head, their eyes were both black with desire.

“We should get you out of those clothes,” Frederique said huskily, her hands going to his doublet and shirt. They swiftly joined her chemise on the floor and she ran her hands over his well-muscled chest, down his chiseled stomach, to stop at the laces of his breeches. She slowly undid the laces, fingers teasing his heated flesh as they brushed him lightly. Before he could reach for her to drag onto the bed, Frederique sank to her knees in front of him and pulled his breeches and drawers down his thighs, gently freeing his cock. Porthos watched as she stroked her fingers delicately up his throbbing length. Her breath teased him as she brought him to her mouth. Her tongue came out to caress the ridge of his cockhead, swirling around it then taking him into her mouth. Porthos groaned thickly as Frederique skimmed his thickness as he moved in and out between her full lips. His hand sank into her dark tresses, holding her head in place so he could fuck her mouth. The sight of his dark skin sliding into the O of her pale mouth was incredibly erotic.

“You know how to suck a cock,” he said as he flexed his hips to go farther into her mouth, “Let’s see if the rest of you is just as good.” With a final thrust, he pulled out of her mouth. “Bed. Now,” he ordered, lifting her to her feet. Frederique knelt on the bed so he could enter her from behind, thinking that was what he wanted, but he eased her down on her side. He removed the last of his clothes and lay down next to her, but with his head next to the apex of her thighs and his hard cock inches from her lips. He nuzzled her thighs to get her open them, inhaling the delicious scent of her pussy when she did so. Porthos nipped playfully at her nether lips then ran his tongue over her pearl, causing her to gasp at the unexpected pleasure. Frederique gripped the base of his erect shaft and took the smooth, bulbous head into her mouth. Together they pleasured each other, his tongue sliding into her wet channel, her hand pumping him as her tongue laved his tip. Porthos tasted her intimately, holding her hips firmly in place when she tried to retreat from the silky touch of his tongue, and pushed her over the edge. He felt her walls contract as she came, her hand tightening on his shaft, and when her teeth lightly skimmed over his most sensitive part he let himself explode in her mouth. Frederique drank down the milky seed that poured from his cock as Porthos lapped at the honeyed nectar between her legs. Sated, they lay back, gazing up at the luxurious canopy hanging over them. 

“That was amazing,” Frederique said, giving him a seductive smile. “I can see why the other girls are in love with you.”

Porthos gave her a satisfied smile. “I think you might be my new favorite,” he said, running his hand over her hip and stomach to squeeze her breast. “You don’t happen to have any wine, do you?”

“Uh huh,” Frederique replied, getting up and going to the armoire near the fireplace. Opening a cabinet door, she withdrew a crystal decanter of Burgundy red and two glasses. As she was pouring the dark red liquid, she saw Porthos admiring her naked body. “And what are you looking at?” she asked pertly.

“You,” Porthos said, letting his eyes roam over her lush curves.

“I don’t recall giving you permission,” she retorted with a smile.

“Didn’t ask,” he came back, returning her smile. “Got any oil in there?” he nodded toward the cabinet.

She nodded and took out a small bottle of oil. Carefully she carried the items back to the bed, handing Porthos a glass and curling up beside him. “What shall we toast to?” she asked.

“How about not getting executed for murder,” Porthos said, clinking glasses with her. Raising the glass to his lips, he tasted one of the finest wines he had ever tasted. “This is good. I should get some of this to take back to the garrison.”

“It was a gift from a very satisfied ambassador,” Frederique told him. “Incredibly expensive. Only someone very rich could afford it. But I might have another bottle somewhere if you really like it.”

“It seems the rich have no problem getting what they want,” Porthos said, looking into his glass. “Wine. Women. Scapegoats.”

“You survived their attempt to execute you,” Frederique pointed out. “And de Mauvoisin confessed to killing his son.”

“Only to be allowed to blow his brains out with the Captain’s pistol,” Porthos said tersely. “No hanging for him like a common criminal.”

“Of course not,” she replied laconically. “Because even in death, the social order must be maintained.”

“What gives the des Mauvoisins the right to endanger the lives of hundreds of people just to make money?” Porthos asked. “What did they ever do to think they could get away with something like that?”

“Do you know why the de Vaillancourts became Seneschals of Normandy?” she asked. When Porthos shook his head, she answered, “Because we’re descended from Agnes Sorel, France’s first official mistress, and Diane de Poitiers, the greatest royal mistress of them all. For two hundred years, the de Vaillancourts have fucked royalty, and royalty has rewarded us for it. No doubt the des Mauvoisins performed some other disreputable service for the crown, for which they were amply compensated with wealth and titles.”

“So the only difference between families like the des Mauvoisins and the families living in the Court of Miracles is that they got on their backs for the right people and while the rest struggled to survive any way they could,” Porthos said, remembering Flea, Charon, and the other inhabitants of the Court, who were trapped in the poverty of the Paris slums. “And then they have the nerve to call the people less well off than them vermin. Makes me sick.”

“Such is life,” Frederique commiserated. “Strange how one’s fate can turn on the smallest decision. An accident of birth means the difference between growing up in a chateau or in a hovel.” She looked at Porthos. “What was it like, growing up in the Court of Miracles?” she asked.

“You grew up quickly in the Court,” Porthos told her. “You had to be quick on your feet, learn how to fight for what you wanted, because no one was going to help you out when they were in dire need themselves.”

“Did you have family there?” Frederique asked.

Porthos shook his head. “My mother died when I was young, shortly after we ended up at the Court. I had two friends, Flea and Charon. We took care of each other, became the best thieves in the Court. We ran those streets back then.”

“Why did you leave?” Frederique asked, tilting her head.

“I didn’t fit in the way Flea and Charon did,” Porthos said. “The thrill and the danger of being a thief weren’t enough. I wanted more. So I left and joined the infantry. I tried to get Flea to go with me, but she wanted to stay. I made a reputation for myself, and Treville offered me a commission in the new regiment of Musketeers that was being formed.”  
“It hurt,” Frederique commented, giving him a perceptive look, “Flea not going with you, didn’t it?”

Porthos nodded. “She was the first girl I ever kissed, the first one I fucked. I was in love with her. I thought that we could take on anything if we were together. But she chose to stay at the Court with Charon,” he confessed. “it broke my heart, leaving without her. At first, I didn’t care if I lived or died. I simply threw myself into the thick of battle, almost hoping that some enemy hit would end everything.”

“What changed?” Frederique took a sip of her wine.

“A skirmish,” he said, “outside Bearn. The Protestants were trying to get supplies into the city to relieve the siege. My commanding officer had a small band of us spy on a small back road leading up to the city. We saw wagons being led under cover of dark. I got the idea to distract them with a false compatriot while the rest of us snuck around to pincer them. The ruse worked, and the supply train was captured. We were celebrating when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I went to investigate and was attacked by one of the Protestants. He was smaller than me, but ferocious as a wild animal. He cornered me against a steep ravine. I stupidly left myself open on my right side and he got me on my back at the edge of the ravine. He raised his dagger for the death blow and I realized in that moment that I didn’t want to die, that there was so much more that I wanted out of life. And then his head exploded. I watched as he tumbled over the side of the ravine, then looked over to where the shot had come from. I saw a figure lower a smoking arquebus and come toward me. He helped me to my feet and asked if I was alright. He was a French Basque by the name of Rene d’Herblay, but everyone called him Aramis. We became inseparable after that. From that day on, I swore never to let anything get me killed after what I had gone through. But enough about me,” he said, pulling Frederique over to straddle his waist, “what was it like to grow up in a chateau?”

“D’Anet?” she said. “It was wonderful, running through the grounds, picking apples from the trees when they were in season. The chateau was full of black and white marble, Diane de Poitiers’ colors. She designed and rebuilt the chateau when she was Henri Deuxieme’s mistress. I loved to count the triple moons scattered throughout the house. There were also the interlocked D’s and H’s in most of the bedrooms.” She ran her hands over his chest. “But life in the de Vaillancourt household was not without its costs. Once I started to develop, my aunt Simone instructed me in the ways of being a maitresse en titre. She found a young stud that she used to demonstrate the techniques that I would need to know to seduce a Bourbon prince. I learned how to suck a cock by the time I was fourteen, and took royal dildos between my legs soon after that.”

“She taught you how to be a king’s whore?” Porthos asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Do you think being a royal mistress is easy?” she asked, giving him a matter-of-fact look. “If the Queen gives birth to an heir, then she is secure. She can fade into the marble columns if she likes, and nobody can touch her. But a mistress must always be ready to entertain her lover at any time. She can never be sick, she can never be tired, and she can never, ever bore him. She has to watch her back because she is surrounded by those eager to take her place and those eager to see her fall from the King’s favor so they can reap the benefits. The women in my family have fucked every French king since Charles Septieme,” Frederique defended herself. “That is how we became one of the greatest families in the land. Aunt Simone made a man of King Louis, so to speak,” she said, seeing Porthos grimace, “and my first fuck was the Duc d’Orleans.”

“You fucked the King’s brother?”

“Why not?” she asked, shrugging her shoulders. “He’s heir to the throne until the Queen gives birth, and he inherited his father’s large cock. Sadly, he didn’t know how to use it, though. Once he got off, he had no problem leaving his lover unsatisfied.”

“So how did you end up here?” Porthos asked, playing with tops of Frederique’s stockings.

“Gaston was stupid enough to throw his lot in with his mother,” she explained, “when Marie de Medici tried to overthrow Louis. After the Cardinal reasserted royal authority, anyone connected to the plotters was in disgrace. My family decided to pack me off here to save the de Vaillancourt name.”

“They trained you to be a courtesan and then cast you aside when you were no longer useful,” Porthos said, shaking his head. “To go from the Louvre to this place must have been quite a shock.”

“It was an adjustment, living with so many other young women,” she agreed, “it was almost like one of those convent schools. But Madame Angel has made this place a home for everyone here, and we’ve become like family. And if you think I’m cast aside and no longer useful, then you obviously haven’t been paying attention to your surroundings,” Frederique said, giving him a self-satisfied smile. “In case you hadn’t noticed, the great families of France, the ones who served king and country with their swords for generations, are becoming worn-out relics of a past age. France is changing, and it is the new men, the ones who come from humble means but who have the brains and ambition to climb as high as they can, men like you, my dear,” she leaned over to kiss Porthos, gently nipping his lower lip, “who are the future of this country. Madame Angel has started to take on several of the King’s financiers as clients, the ones who advance him the money to build his army and navy, and pay your wages by the way, and those men are very generous. My family knew what they were doing when they put me here. A connection with one of those rising stars could be very useful for us.”

“That is certainly a mercenary view,” Porthos commented drily, “I would’ve expected someone with your pedigree to turn up her nose at fucking someone who didn’t have a title.”

“Given the choice of an impoverished noble with a rundown estate,” Frederique pointed out reasonably, “and a commoner as rich as Croesus who can provide you with beautiful clothes, a carriage, and a luxurious townhouse in the best part of the city, any courtesan worth her salt will opt for the latter. We’re very open minded that way.”

Porthos laughed. “Then I’ll have to start saving my livres if I want to keep enjoying your favors,” he said, his hands reaching around to cup her buttocks.

Frederique smiled. “Just make sure you set me up in a nice apartment when you become a captain,” she told him.

“Only a captain?” he teased, sliding his hands over her hips and back down her thighs.

“A general, then,” she corrected herself. “You’ve got the brains to go as far as you want to, Porthos. Just don’t forget to take me with you when you get there.”

Porthos admired her generous curves and decided to was time for another round. “I want to see you pleasure yourself,” he said, lifting her up from his stomach. Holding his gaze, Frederique moved her hand to her mound, parting her nether lips to slide her fingers into her wet pussy as the pad of her thumb pressed her pearl. Porthos watched as she fucked her hand, her hips circling, and reached for the bottle of oil.

“Royal dildos, huh?” he asked, smearing oil on two fingers. “What was that like?”

“My family had dildos made in the size and shape of each French king’s cock,” she said, jerking against her palm with increasing speed, “I had to learn how fuck each one as though it were the greatest cock ever created.”

“Not your average childhood, then. Which one was your favorite?”

“Francois Premiere,” Frederique confessed, moaning with pleasure as her fingers worked between her legs. “He was a giant, in every way.” 

Porthos reached around with his oil slicked fingers and traced the valley between her buttocks. Spreading them, he eased one finger into the tight, puckered hole. “I want to make sure you’re ready for me,” he said when Frederique raised an eyebrow at the unexpected invasion. “Have you taken a man’s cock in the ass before?” he asked when she flexed her hips to take him deeper.

“Never one as large as yours,” she groaned as he introduced a second finger inside her, “but yes.” Together they worked out a rhythm to bring her to release, their fingers brushing against each other internally as they moved inside different channels. Frederique rubbed her swollen pearl, crying out as she came, her hips moving violently as pleasure coursed through her body. Her breath was ragged, like she had run a great distance, and she braced her hand on Porthos’ chest. She smiled down at him as he removed his fingers from her body. Looking over her shoulder, she saw his thick cock was fully engorged, the globular head glistening with moisture. She turned back to him with a devilish look in her eyes. 

“Now, it’s your turn,” she said, lifting herself off of his torso and moving down his body to his hips. Pumping his hard length, she straddled him facing his legs, so he had the perfect view of the rounded buttocks that his hand worked so ably moments before. Slowly she eased herself onto his erection, sighing with delight as his thickness stretched her pussy just the way she liked it. Bending forward so Porthos could see his cock go in and out of her pussy, she began to move, sliding so only his head remained buried, then taking him back in to the hilt. Porthos watched her buttocks bounce as she rode him, hips pumping back and forth. He could see his shaft covered in Frederique’s juices as it delved between her thighs. He grunted with satisfaction as she worked herself on his cock and thrust his hips to go deeper in her wet channel.

“You’re going to be bad for business,” Frederique panted, her hips moving rapidly as she felt her climax approaching, “I can tell.” She shuddered as her orgasm hit her hard, her pussy squeezing his cock tightly. Porthos gritted his teeth, fighting the temptation to release inside her, determined to stay hard. He pulled himself out of her, going onto his knees and grabbing a pillow.

“On your belly,” he ordered, placing the pillow under her stomach and raising her hips in the air. Positioning himself behind her, he spread her soft buttocks, looking down at the puckered hole between them. Smiling, he pressed his cockhead forward to open it for his entry. Her body opened up to accept him, her hole slick from the oil and his cock soaked with her juices. Porthos groaned as the bulbous head of his cock slid into the tight passage, feeling the vibrations from her fading orgasm. Caressing her globes, he moved slowly inside her, going a little deeper with each thrust, smiling triumphantly when he heard her moan with desire as he fucked her ass. Most of Madame Angel’s girls refused to take his cock in their asses, and the ones who did, well, Porthos could tell that they weren’t comfortable having him in there, even if they did put on a brave face for him. But Frederique, she took him in deeper than anyone else, and she loved it, moving her hips in time with his. He watched as his cock plunged between the twin moons, finding the sight of his length being caressed by her cheeks the most erotic thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re going to wreck me for other men, aren’t you?” she gasped as he reached around to play with her pearl. “I don’t think I can take another man’s cock in my ass after this.” Frederique arched her back as the delicious sensations of climax returned to claim her.

“Good,” Porthos growled, reaching around to squeeze her ample breasts as his hips flexed, thrusting his cock deeper. “Because I’m going to be fucking this pretty ass of yours as often as I can. I like the idea of having it all to myself.” Porthos thrust again and let himself come, hot seed spewing into her ass. He groaned as his cock emptied itself of its contents. Carefully, he eased himself out of her body, lifting her up and settling them both down on the soft mattress, nestling her against him.

“You’re the first woman I’ve been with who’s actually enjoyed that,” he whispered against her forehead. “Most women don’t like having me back there. How is it that you were able to come like that when none of the other girls here could?” He kissed her gently.

“The dildos,” she said honestly, looking up at him. “I had to learn to take them in my ass as well as my pussy. French kings enjoy many unusual practices when it comes to sex and I had to learn them all. It hurt at first, but I learned how to move so it became enjoyable. Of course,” she said, leaning over to kiss him, "your cock is much more enjoyable than an ivory shaft.” They laid back against the pillows, sliding underneath the soft, silken sheets. Cuddling down, they whispered in the dark, talking about all the things they wanted to do, the places they wanted to see, until their bodies told them to was time for another fuck. Their whispers turned to moans of desire as Porthos settled between her thighs, sliding easily into her slippery pussy to rock them both to satisfaction. Yawning, they closed their eyes and let sleep claim them. 

****

Porthos slowly woke up as morning light shone through the window. Stirring, he reached for Frederique, but found nothing but an empty space. Groggily, he turned around to see her at the table in the center of the room, pouring coffee from a silver pot into a delicate handled cup. “Good morning,” she said, setting the coffeepot down and reaching for a tiny pot of milk, adding some to the dark brew. A wine colored robe was wrapped around her figure as she picked up the cup and took a sip of the hot brew. “Would you like some coffee to wake you up?” she asked, holding up the pot.

“I think I need something a little different to do that,” he said, rolling over. Kicking aside the covers, he spread his legs wide, so she could see his outsized testes as he gripped his cock. “Come back to bed,” he told her, moving his hand along his shaft.

Frederique stayed where she was, drinking from her cup as Porthos stroked his swelling cock. She watched, entranced, as fingers the same shade as the liquid in her cup glided up and down his massive erection. She tried to look nonchalant, but she could feel the dampness spreading between her thighs as she remembered what that iron hard cock had done to her, and she was sure he could see her nipples pressing against the silk robe. His wicked grin told her she was right. She downed the last of her coffee and returned to the bed, opening her robe to reveal the lush body that he had thoroughly explored the night before. Crawling over to him, she kissed him, feeling his hand move to squeeze her breast, plucking the nipple.

“On your back,” he said, pushing her down on the bed. Taking both ankles in his hands, Porthos pulled her up so she was balanced on her shoulders. Resting her feet on his shoulders, he thrust into her wet pussy, groaning thickly as her walls closed around him. “This is much better than coffee,” he said as he began to move inside her.

In her upside down position, Frederique could feel his size, full and flagrant, as he plunged in and out between her legs. Without breaking rhythm, Porthos’ fingers found her pearl, and pressed it as he worked her body to bring her to orgasm. She cried out as she came, helpless to resist Porthos fucking her hard, his cock swelling fuller before he erupted inside her. Their sighs mingled together as hot seed gushed into her throbbing passage. Lowering her body to the bed, he eased out of her, kissing her deeply, slipping his tongue into her mouth, then getting up to redress in his uniform. Laying back against the pillows, completely spent from their lovemaking, Frederique’s eyes followed him moving around the suite as he collected his accoutrements. 

“We should do this again sometime,” she said lazily, stretching out as Porthos came over to say goodbye. Rising up on her knees, she wrapped her arms around his neck while his hands cupped her buttocks to press her body against his.

“Tomorrow, perhaps?” he said, nipping playfully at her lips.

“Tomorrow sounds perfect,” she replied, pressing her lips to his. She felt his hand leave her buttock to glide over her waist and up to massage her full breast while his tongue invaded her mouth to steal her breath. When he heard her moan, he lifted his head to survey his handiwork. 

“You really do have great tits,” he told her, giving her breast one last caress before turning and leaving the suite as Frederique lay back down, pulling the covers back over herself and closing her eyes. Porthos walked down the silent corridor to the marble staircase he had ascended the night before. Descending, he let his gaze wander over the empty salon, the room looking strangely sad without the candlelight and sparkling feminine laughter that filled it every evening. 

“You look like you had fun last night,” Clemence said, giving him a winsome smile as he approached the table where she sat, drinking coffee and enjoying a fresh tartine. She looked as polished and pretty as when he had arrived hours earlier.

“Frederique is fun girl,” Porthos said, opening his purse to take out his payment, “with a great ass.” He dropped the requisite livres into Clemence’s outstretched hand. She dropped them into the lockbox that held the other clients’ payments for the night. 

“I thought you’d like her when I picked her out for you,” Clemence replied, reaching for the large appointment book and thumbing through to the right page. “How did it feel to get inside an ass that could handle that monstrous cock of yours?”

“Never better,” he told her as she wrote his name in for his next appointment with Frederique. Saying goodbye to Clemence, Porthos exited the salon, going down the ground level, where the doorman opened the outer door for him. Nodding to the footmen standing watch outside, he went through the iron gates and headed back toward the Rue des Capucines. Inhaling the crisp morning air, he let the smell of freshly baked baguettes lure him to a nearby boulangerie for a warm loaf. Taking the fresh bread in his hand, Porthos admired the beauty and serenity of Paris waking up as he returned to the garrison.


End file.
